With a roof top tent on the hunt for top tours in the mountain world

That we have not yet determined this seemingly important detail is for the simple reason that we did not need to. In contrast to most regular ski trips where choosing a mountain and carefully researching the hotel and cabin selection is a must, this time we want to steer the pack to where the conditions seem best for the day. We don't have to worry about accommodation, we have that with us on the roof of the car.

The closer the departure day came , the more obvious it has become that the lasting memory from the trip will hardly be sun pits and goggle burns, the spring winter has simply not really wanted to come.

The weather apps give out mostly minus degrees and a few plus degrees for the coming days and also decent wind.

Now we stand here and have to make a decision . We want to go on a trip already the same day, so the first stop should be somewhere not too many hours from Åre. Big Blue Lake? Homeowner? Borgafjäll?

The choice falls on Kittelfjäll, where the weather, wind and snow conditions seem good for the day. Sandra and Isaac have hung out there for a while during the winter and have both been captivated. Our photographer Philip has also taken some of his favorite pictures there.

Rooftop tents have a long history been a common sight in more southerly latitudes where vacations with expedition vehicles are a thing. The advantages of a roof tent in more tropical environments are obvious – being off the ground provides protection both from the jaws of predators and the stings of scorpions.

However, it was in Europe that roof tents first began to be used sometime in the 1940s. During East Germany's glory days, roof tents were a common sight on the iconic Trabants, and of course it has continued to be common in Germany, which is the absolute stronghold of camping life.

The last few years have roof tents have also started to appear more and more on the Swedish roads and have been given a good boost by the corona pandemic, it is a cheaper alternative to a mobile home and more comfortable than a normal tent.

Another phenomenon that got a real boost during the pandemic is top tours in our Swedish mountains, and Ola in our gang is convinced that these two good things together must become three.

Our hypothesis is that it should be perfectly suited for a top-touring spring-winter trip in the company of good friends. With the accommodation on the roof of the car, we are not tied to any hotels but can control the route completely ourselves.

It's getting close to three in the afternoon when we get to Kittelfjäll and we all start to get impatient. After a short deliberation, we decide to climb Borkafjället, which towers just west of Kittelfjäll.

We stop at a parking pocket and throw in some sandwiches while we pick up all the equipment.

- Has anyone else brought a pair of scissors? Sandra wonders.

Everyone shakes their heads.

Put on your skis and off you go across the lake. Once over on the other side, a steep climb up a stream ravine filled with concrete snow begins. Skarjärn would have been great...

When the slope is completed follows a pleasant walk over the plain. The afternoon sun warms and the mood is at its peak. Suddenly we see two figures approaching at a leisurely pace. (Incidentally, the only other people we will meet up on the mountains during our three days.)

One goes down the mountain with a pair of trick skis. The other, a burly man with a denim vest and a long bushy beard, has descended using a saucer, of all the tools on planet Earth.

Thoughts go unsolicited to the most entertaining skier in skiing history, Shane McConkey (AKA Saucer Boy ) and, perhaps because we are at Borkafjäll, to the robber chief of the same name in Ronja Rövardotter. They happily announce that they have been all the way up the bowl ahead of us and that the snow is really good.

A good way up in said bowl, we decide to climb over to the steep rock wall on our left to get some vertigo and spy the magnificent view of Kittelfjäll.

The north side of Borkafjället falls below us in a convex slope down towards Lake Borkasjön. If you have a rope with you and celebrate the first bit, you can get down here on skis. We have neither that nor enough snow for the ride to be possible.

Instead, we go in the other direction. Philip and Ola have spotted some nice turns on the other side and are crossing over. The riding here turns out to be varied to say the least. Everything from concrete snow and cardboard to 15-20 centimeters of powder. An entertaining ride where the turns are sometimes performed in a good riding position, sometimes in the back seat - just as it easily becomes when the snow under the skis varies greatly. The rest of us ride down on the fine snow that has drifted into the large depression. The ride will be far better than what we had dared to hope to experience at the beginning of the day. Together we ride towards some small rocks and wind drifts that look promising and let loose in the playful lower part of the bowl.

The last bit down towards the creek ravine is super nice, flat cruising. After that, it's just a matter of burning straight down the gorge to get as much speed as possible out on the lake and make the return journey to the cars shorter. On the way back, everyone is happy and cheerful - and perhaps above all - determined to come back and redo the ride at some point after a serious dump.

It's past seven o'clock and we decide that the parking pocket will suffice as a camp for the evening, the traffic is still almost non-existent.

Camping chairs, tables and warm woolen blankets are unloaded from the car. A speaker streams country music, while Ola starts a fire. The sound of beer cans breaking creates a convivial atmosphere.

On today's menu is a chili stew on prime rib, prepared at home and heated on a grill. The heat from the pot in combination with a rum-laced cup of coffee means that we keep the heat up even though the temperature is creeping down towards zero. We enjoy the food accompanied by a beautiful sunset.

After one night where a lot of wind and snow gusts have drawn in and fluttered the tent cloths, none of us wakes up immediately rested. It is cloudy and there is a little snow in the air. Instead of rushing off, we take a leisurely morning and arrange a long meal with hot coffee and sandwiches in a sandwich iron over an open fire, while we start discussing where to go.

The night before, Hemavan was raised as an alternative but it feels too far away. Sandra recommends instead that we take the classic Norgesvängen on the back side of Kittelfjäll, a trip we could get to from our current camp. Ola suggests Daune, which is a couple of miles to the west and whose mighty peak we had a view of during yesterday's ride.

Isaac considers it too likely that the little snowfall that came during the night should have driven in better on the slopes of Daune than in Norgesvängen. As a trained international mountain guide, he is the one in the group with clearly the best knowledge and feel for snow. Down it is!

The cars are packed and we go into the valley. We stop at a parking lot where a sign – No Pee, No Camping, No Poo - gossip that we are not the first to choose to stay here.

In the house on the other side of the road live the woman who created the sign and the man - Karin and Nils-Anders. Previously, they were reindeer herders and moved with the reindeer. From the other side of the road, they have been able to see how skiers' interest in Daune has steadily grown.

- At most, there have been up to 15 cars outside here. At first, everyone stood along the road, so we tidied up the parking lot to make it a little more orderly, says Karin.

To have enthusiastic and sweaty top-tourers outside the house all winter season think they're just nice, as long as they don't litter. It is one of the exceptions but has happened, hence the sign. However, they themselves do not understand what is the allure of top touring. Karin once got as far up as the tree line on Daune with a pair of Tegsnäs skis. The descent was exciting to say the least.

Instead of taking the most common route up, around the right side of the mountain, we choose to go straight towards the top. The fields of cold, fine snow on the way up gossip that Isaac was right.

After a bit on the calf mountain, we attach the skis to the backpack and boot further upwards. Isaac and Sandra have been hit by summit fever and are sprinting towards the summit surrounded by dizzying snow. The rest of us with slightly less mountain goat blood in our veins have to take things a little more calmly.

A bit below the top Ola and Philip choose a really fun chute, loaded with fresh snow at a proper slope. A moment later, Isaac and Sandra come rushing down from the top. Sandra drops in in front of us and you can both see and hear that her ride down was clearly worth the crunch up in the wind.

Back at the car, we eat cream-stewed pittipanna for a late lunch while deciding that the small town of Borgafjäll, which lies on the border between Jämtland and Lapland, will be our next and last stop.

At the crossing at Stalon where we're about to turn off the E45, it suddenly feels like we've entered a time machine and ended up 30-40 years back in time. In front of us is a gas station with old pumps next to a small shop painted in yellow and brown. We stop and meet Rainer, who runs the deli. He starts the pump and refuels for us. We learn that he lived and worked here for 40 years. First in his father's shop in the now empty building right next door and later in the grocery store.

We continue the last miles to Borgafjäll. There is talk in the car about Sweden's best forest skiing, where the trees are thinned out just the right amount.

We turn right just after the village and drive up a winding dirt road towards the tree line at Klöverfjället. At the top we find a parking pocket with ski in-ski out mode for tomorrow's trip.

The roof tent unfolds and a bottle of bubbly comes forward (if it's glamping, it is). Earlier in the day, Isaac and Sandra told how easy it is to saber with a ski, ice ax or whatever else you have available. All you have to do is remove the foil and pull the selected attachment upwards towards the cork along the edge of the glass bottle.

Sandra makes a few attempts with an ice pick but the cork does not move a millimeter. The pulls get harder and harder before she finally gives up. Isaac takes her place, puts the ice pick against the glass bottle and quickly pulls it forward towards the cork. And sure enough, now the cork flies away - but so does most of the bottle neck, which is shattered by the force.

After spending a moment picking up the shards of glass, we divide the remaining bubble before crawling up and going to bed with a view from the head pillow over Klöverfjället, which is tomorrow's goal.

We wake up refreshed to bright sun and cool winds. After breakfast, we pull on our skins and follow a cross path upwards.

The mountain is fast approaching. We see how the snow swirls in small tornadoes up on top. The snow in the bowl we intended to take down from the top is likely to be as hard as concrete.

On the other hand, we have also seen a substantial ravine a little way ahead of us on the mountain to the right, where the probability of fine snow is considered high. We deviate from the cross trail and go a bit upwards to gain some height before we start to slide down towards the gorge. The cold snow is wind-packed but soft enough for us to get some cruising turns on a slight incline.

In the gorge we are finally met by some long-awaited sluice fishing. It is windless and the sun has warmed up. We play down and climb up in different places to take some small kicks and find fun turns.

On our way back down to the cars, we enjoy the view of northern Jämtland's mountain world bathed in sun, with the mighty Borgahällan as an eye-catcher on the right.